


Jack O' Diamonds

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set during their outlaw days, I believe. At least it is when they are not afraid of their names. <br/>A vacation in the crescent brings about great poker games and a bit of excitement but when don't the boys find excitement -</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack O' Diamonds

Hannibal Heyes had acquired a card sharp ranking, which tended to make others nervous to sit down with him. Although here in Orleans it worked in his favor, for soon players throughout the basin city desired to try their skill against him. Each hoping they would be the one to claim, “I got the better of the great Hannibal Heyes last night.” And yes, there were times he lost however never enough for anyone to boast of besting him. 

Since dusk, Heyes had been bellied up to a felt green top at the Red Crescent with five other players. Hearing the Cathedral bells chiming midnight, he paused in mid-shuffle a line from Macbeth emerging from the recesses of his memory, ‘something wicked this way comes’. Looking round at the five men, he frowned, wondering why it had come to him and began to deal. 

The first man he dealt to was, Thomas Alvert. Alvert was a diminutive man who consistently fidgeted with his poker chips. In short, order, Heyes had concluded Alvert shifted his chips in certain ways to match how he felt about his cards. Once he broke down the pattern, Alvert had become no challenge at all. 

Next on the deal was Jed ‘Kid’ Curry. They were partners, but it was more than that, they were cousins and it wasn’t unusual for them to even finish each other’s sentences. But remarkably, despite their closeness, he still had hard time deciphering Kid at the poker table. It had something to do with his eyes. Any other place Kid’s blue eyes danced with emotion, often revealing exactly what he was thinking. Yet the moment, he picked up a poker hand, they became flat as blue glass. It dug at Heyes. Finding a player’s tell was at least three-quarters of the fun for him. Most times, within a couple of hours, he could read another player through and through. Not Kid. And, knowing this Kid flashed him a quick smile before letting his poker face fall in place. 

Sitting next to Kid was a boatman by the name of Mitchum. His upper body was built like a barrel and there was little doubt he had been up and down the old muddy river more times than he could count. In fact, Heyes wondered if Mitchum could count past ten or even read for that matter. If he was uneducated, Heyes could give two shakes and yet it did bother him whenever a man sat in on a game smarter than he. Because Heyes felt, a man should know his limits and with Mitchum the players surrounding him were well above his limits. He was so easy to read, he might as well have been playing his cards face up. So naturally Mitchum was losing and heavily too. 

The fourth player was Jean LaBeau, a Cajun who had come to town on business and decided to stay for poker. LaBeau begun the evening as a decent player his large personality making him difficult to decode that is until he had gotten too deep into his cups. Then he had begun smiling whenever he had a good hand and the better the hand, the bigger the smile. A few hands back when he ordered a fourth bottle of wine, Heyes had suggested, ‘LeBeau you positive you do not wish to share your wine with the ladies?’ The Cajun had licked his lips, eyed the scantily clad women but stayed at the table, so Heyes had counseled, ‘Well then, you really ought to break off smiling so grandly whenever Lady Fate looks your way.’ His warning had earned him LaBeau’s thanks and an odious glare from Mitchum. 

The last player was a generously proportioned Irish man named Reilly. It had not taken long for Heyes to conclude, Reilly enjoyed watching the game more than being part of it. The only time Reilly did not fold was when he had a sure-fire win. Within a few hours, all five of them had learned if Reilly stayed then they might as well give up because the pot was already his. Except here and there, Heyes would stick with him sometimes even upping the bid much to the others dismay. 

It was actions such as these and giving LeBeau a word of caution which quickly built Heyes’ name as an affable player, who never took advantage of a man more than he deserved. Which was exactly what he and the Kid were hoping because they were thoroughly enjoying wintering down in the crescent city where fifty degrees was considered a cold night. 

Dealing Reilly his fifth card and then one to himself, Heyes set the deck down, casually watching the other men as they picked up their cards.

Alvert shifted his chips, letting Heyes know he held at least two face cards. Hence, he was not surprised when the cautious accountant bid three dollars. 

Kid too slid three dollars out, his face remaining as blank as a new chalkboard.

Mitchum dropped his chips in, accompanied by a mumbled line of curses.

LaBeau took a large drink of wine before tossing his bid in the pot.   
Of course, Reilly folded. 

Picking up his own cards, Heyes saw ten, nine, eight, seven, six of diamonds and a lowly two of clubs. Laying them down in a neat pile, he deposited three chips to the center then deciding to go for it said, “What the hell.” And added five more. 

Alvert shifted about in his seat before gingerly adding his five. 

Kid dropped his in and knowing his pal was trying to read him, he flashed him a rather large smile asking, “Anything tonight?” 

Heyes shook his head, “I will figure you out. You wait and see.” 

“I am sure you will.” Kid smiled even brighter “But not tonight.”

Mitchum growled, resembling a tragedy mask as his eyes shifted from man to man then back to his cards. Heyes hoped he was not drawing to a two pair again and just as everyone thought he was going to fold, Mitchum pushed out five dollars as if it physically pained him and it might have considering how little he had left. 

LaBeau looked longingly at the growing pile then laughing threw his cards down returning happily to his bottle of wine.

And, Reilly sipped his beer his small blue eyes watching them all avidly. 

“How many Alvert?” Heyes asked his clipped Western accent sounding out of place at the tense table.

“Duex .” 

Heyes passed him two.

“Slide me three Heyes.” Kid said flashing another grin.

Hannibal did so wondering if maybe the friendlier Kid was the worse the hand he was holding.

When Mitchum snarled, “Three damn you!” He was jarred from his thoughts and back to the game.

Shooting the boatman a hard look, he dealt him the cards before taking one for his self and then not sure, why he did it he winked at Mitchum. 

LaBeau saw him do it and laughingly cheered, “Oui Monsieur, you show this turtleback how it be played.” 

Swapping out the two for his new card, Heyes bit back a rogue grin and looking up, he was glad he had too, because Kid was eyeing him closely. 

“Ya plan on bidding?” Mitchum prodded Alvert, his tone full of threat.

“How about two dollars." Alvert said, not meaning it to be a question however, the tremor in his voice sure made it sound like one.

Kid all tells fully hidden as usual merely slid two chips to the center. 

Mitchum threw his in with an expression that said, ‘I just dare you to raise the bid again.’ 

Taking no heed, Heyes tossed in two and seeing at least ten dollars in front of Mitchum, dropped that much down onto the pile while yet again winking at the man, “I call.”

Alvert folded without hesitation and Kid dropped his ten in the pot just as quickly. 

Mitchum snarled, slapping ten dollars down before fanning his cards down, “Four tens are what I got… Monsieur.” However, the way he said monsieur, he might as well have been calling Heyes any number of derogatory names and it would have sounded the same. His hand was better than the three nines and pair of jacks Kid had laid down and seeing this Mitchum chortled reaching for the pot.

“Whoa there.” Heyes drawled, taking time to tip his hat so it rested on the back of his head then with a devil’s grin, flipped his cards one by one: seven, eight, nine, ten with the jack of diamonds spinning out across the table. “I would say that belongs to me.” 

“Hellfire Heyes.” Kid scowled standing up. “You did that on ONE card… I am through for the night.”

“The Jack.” Heyes smiled up at him.

Kid smiled back but still shook his head, “One card?”

Heyes nodded.

Pocketing his chips, Kid said, “I am going to rid myself of some of the drink and I will meet you out front.”

Heyes nodded again standing to pull on his frock coat. 

Mitchum’s eyes followed Kid as he wove away through the crowd then fell back to the cards and the pile of chips Heyes was leaning out to rake in. Then with a grunt, he shot forward his hand clamping around Heyes’ throat. “Ya yellow bastard cheater! Ya slick dealt those cards.”

From a corner of his awareness Heyes saw Alvert jump away so quick he might have left some of himself in the chair, Reilly skittered back almost as agilely but not before swiping his chips up and as the hard, calloused fingers dug deeper into his windpipe, Heyes could hear LeBeau guffawing loudly. 

Snatching hold of Mitchum’s wrist caused him to clench tighter and seeing white spots emerging before his eyes Heyes heaved himself up onto the table, throwing his entire weight into Mitchum’s hand. This unexpected move caught the boatman off guard and having gained the higher ground, Heyes punched Mitchum between the eyes even as the table flipped sending poker chips, drinks and cards pin-wheeling through the air. 

Jumping to his feet, Heyes barreled into Mitchum catching him about the middle, their combined weight sending them both sailing. Other patrons leapt clear, cheering them on as they rolled across the room exchanging blow for blow. Heyes felt, they were evenly matched, until his back crashed into the solid brass boot rail surrounding the bottom of the bar.

“I have ya now, ya son of a bitch.” Mitchum said snatching Heyes up and plowing his head into the railing causing it to ring out like a church bell. 

Struggling to free himself, Heyes failed before Mitchum slammed his skull into the railing a second time. A white-hot explosion shot through his head, ‘If’n I don’t do something soon, he’s going to bust my skull wide open.’ He thought, twisting, frantically reaching for the narrow blade he kept in his boot. Feeling his fingers wrap about the antler handle, just as Mitchum flung him down again this time hammering his shoulder blades against the unyielding brass, Heyes screamed his fingers tightening on the blade’s hilt and with a spastic jerk, he shoved its razor edge up to Mitchum’s neck.

“Oh ho, this be how ya want it.” Mitchum roared, leaping away, pulling out an equally long blade. “Well come on, climb to ya feet so we can dance.”

Staggering up, the room sashayed before Heyes’ eyes but shaking his head, he motioned Mitchum to come on. 

“You ready to be gutted Monsieur?” Mitchum boasted charging in. 

Holding his ground until the last second, Heyes sidestepped throwing his fist wrapped about the hilt into Mitchum’s nose. Beneath his knuckles, he felt the satisfying crunch of bones disintegrating and spinning, he then drove his left fist into Mitchum’s neck followed by a hard kick to the kidneys. The combo flung the boatmen into the side of the bar, sending his knife spinning across the floor to disappear among the feet of the circling crowd.

Rolling over, Mitchum started to get up but Heyes kicked him down, dropping a knee into his sternum he slipped the point of his blade under Mitchum’s chin, saying, “A fight can sure get a man’s blood up. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Mitchum’s eyes rolled across the watching crowd and seeing no one about to intervene, he nodded the slightest bit feeling the blades edge on his skin.   
“The question on your mind I would say – is am I going to run you through or not?”

Mitchum licked his lips quickly.

“Depends?” Heyes said letting the blade cut into Mitchum. “I seem to recall you saying, I was a yellow cheating bastard. Those were your words. Were they not?” He pushed a bit more and Mitchum’s dirt brown eyes rolled in their sockets as a rivulet of blood streamed down the blade. “Well?” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mitchum mumbled, “Ya weren’t cheating.” 

“Louder.” 

“Ya weren’t cheating!”

“And!”

“I apologize.”

Heyes nodded, slapping him on the cheek, “Good man.” Then flicking his wrist enough to give Mitchum a reminder scar, he released him. “Now get the hell out of my sight.” 

As Mitchum slunk out the door, Heyes breathed a sigh of relief and bending to retrieve his hat from where it lay next to their overturned table, he heard “Heyes! Behind you!”

Half-turning he saw Mitchum right before he fell to his knees. Looking down, Heyes saw a red stain spreading along the gold brocade of his vest. Lifting his eyes, he spotted Kid pushing his way through the crowd. Confused he looked from Kid’s blue eyes back to the red stain, ‘Why is it all so quiet… and…” then his eyes rolled up as he crumpled to the floor. 

“Told ya I was going to gut ya.” Mitchum snarled pulling a bowie knife from Heyes’ back and switching his grip to strike again when abruptly he was flying backwards losing this second blade the same way as the first. 

Climbing to his feet, Mitchum hollered, “Why that was quite foolish of ya.” 

“Not really, I ain’t had a good fight in a while.” Replied Kid Curry diving at Mitchum, his quick deft blows irritating the boatman, drawing him further away from Heyes. 

“I am going to smash ya like a bug garcon.” 

Kid replied by laying another punch upside Mitchum’s head while ducking a haymaker swung at him. Then quick as a hornet he darted in, pummeling Mitchum’s ribcage before spinning away. “I’ll give ya that your one big damn bastard but your slower than stove up miner.” He said, nailing the boatman sending him staggering. 

Shaking his head like a bull, Mitchum roared, “I am going to kill ya, ya damn hick.” Then from somewhere on his person he pulled yet another blade. 

“I think it high-time to end our dance.” Kid said with a shake of his head and reaching back into next week threw a punch that could be heard throughout the Crescent when it connected with Mitchum’s chin. 

Spittle and blood flew from the boatman’s mouth, his head lolling back and slow as melting ice his body slid to the floor, it all came about so fast the crowd stood silent before exploding into riotous cheering. 

Pushing his way through the congratulatory crowd, Kid knelt down to his cousin, “What the hell did you do this time?”

Heyes had gotten himself to a sitting position on floor. “What do you mean what did I do? I the one who is bleeding.” He pointed indignantly at his side where he held his bandana firmly. 

“I’m sure you said something to that ox when I left.” Kid stood pulling his cousin up with him.

“Ow! Ow! Careful Kid.”

“Swear I can’t leave you and the mouth alone five minutes.”  
“Now Kid that ain’t rightly true.” Heyes yelped as they made their way out the front doors.

“Since when Heyes since when.”

“Well how about that time…” their voices could be heard fading around the corner and as they did the patrons of the Red Crescent Saloon nodded, chatting with each other about the brief entertainment and returned to their own personal revelries.


End file.
